


Gondor Has No Buttons, Gondor Needs No Buttons

by sophinisba



Category: Lord of the Rings (2001 2002 2003), Lord of the Rings - Tolkien
Genre: 5000-10000 Words, Anachronistic, Blow Job, Community: hobbit_smut, Cormallen, Hobbits, Humor, M/M, Minas Tirith, Uniform Fetish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-08-08
Updated: 2006-08-08
Packaged: 2017-10-06 15:29:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophinisba/pseuds/sophinisba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pippin learns about a useful feature of the uniform of the Guards of the Citadel. Merry comes up with other uses for it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gondor Has No Buttons, Gondor Needs No Buttons

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the "Express Trian to Hobbiton" (anachronism) challenge at the hobbit_smut community on LJ. Thanks to Dana for beta and encouragement.

_March 9th, Minas Tirith_

Pippin was pleased with the uniform when it was all laid out in front of him. All that black leather inlaid with intricate silver designs made him feel rather important, even if he didn't have a very clear idea of what his job was going to be.

His new friend Beregond had said that he was happy to wait outside the little guardroom if Pippin wanted a few minutes' privacy, and Pippin thanked him, and set about trying to figure out just how and where all the pieces were supposed to fit.

Pippin had imagined that all the new clothes would be a good deal too big for him, having been made for Men of Gondor, and strong men at that. So he was surprised to find the trousers quite snug. Uncomfortably so, in fact, as the fabric was very thick and had almost no give to it. Pippin had always been slender by Shire standards and had become more so after many months on his feet. He was also, of course, exceedingly tall for a hobbit now. Nevertheless, these trouser legs were several inches too long, while the seat of them positively squeezed his arse. And the front, well. The front of them wasn't doing any squeezing yet because it was still hanging open.

"Is that as far as you've got then?" Beregond said when he opened the door.

Pippin jumped a little and instinctively moved his hands to cover himself, although it was only his underwear that was showing, and not what was under that.

"I -- " said Pippin.

Beregond glanced down at Pippin's hands and smiled. "Ah, zipper giving you trouble, is it?"

"I beg your pardon?"

A moment later, to Pippin's great horror, Beregond was kneeling down in front of him and touching Pippin's hands, though not trying to pull them away. "The metal bit here," he said. "That's something they only added to the uniforms, oh, some thirty years ago by my guess. They were still a fairly new thing when I joined the Guard myself. Now many men of the City wear them. They're becoming a regular feature of men's fashions."

Pippin, looking down at the open placket of his trousers in some frustration, couldn't see any reason why such a thing would be so popular. "But why ever would you want these nasty jagged metal teeth so close to your... body?" he asked his new friend. "I could understand if it were a weapon of some kind, but really, the only person I can see this hurting is me."

"It's not as dangerous as all that," Beregond said carefully, "particularly if you keep it closed, which is the way we normally wear it."

"Oh," Pippin stammered. "Yes, I realize that, of course, I just don't quite understand..."

Beregond nodded. "Do up the button at the top first. That's especially important when they're as tight as yours are."

To Pippin's relief, Beregond released his hands. The button at the top was also made of metal and was stuck all the way through the material rather than sewn on, but it worked like those of his own hobbit things and gave him no trouble apart from having to suck in his breath to get it closed.

"Then you take hold of the zipper, the part that sticks out, see?"

Pippin moved his fingers quickly, not wanting Beregond to have to show him which part he meant. There was a part of Pippin that was trying to stick out as well, but he wasn't about to grab hold of that -- an action that would only make it more difficult to get the trousers closed, after all. The pointy part of the zipper was quite small, and Pippin could only grasp it with the tip of his thumb and forefinger.

"And pull up, that's all," said Beregond.

Pippin did so, and thought that the way the tiny handle pulled together the two sides of fabric and joined them fast was a good deal like magic.

Wanting this embarrassing incident over with but nevertheless fascinated, he pulled the zipper down again, and the placket easily came open. Beregond coughed quietly and Pippin immediately pulled the zipper closed and let go.

"Thank you," he said. "I suppose I might have been able to figure it out on my own, but I have never seen such a thing before."

"We have many things to learn from each other," Beregond agreed.

"Quite," said Pippin.

"This is unfortunate," said Beregond, his hand running very lightly along the seam at Pippin's left hip. "These are meant to be tight along the skin, like hose or leggings, almost." Pippin hadn't taken much notice before, but now he saw that Beregond's own trousers were indeed nearly as tight as Pippin's. He tried not to stare at the front of them, where he knew there must be a zipper concealed behind a fold of fabric, or to think of what would be concealed behind that. "But since the cloth is so tough," his friend continued, "it doesn't stretch so well. If the fit isn't right, it can be a bit uncomfortable. You understand though, yes? We had so few of these smaller sizes to choose from."

"I understand, yes," said Pippin. "I thank you. I _am_ honored, that Lord Denethor would accept my service at all, and that you and your friends have taken the trouble to find fitting... well, perhaps not _fitting_, but to find appropriate garb for me to wear. It isn't terribly uncomfortable. Just... snug, I suppose. Will you show me now how to put on the rest of these things?"

And he was glad he had asked for help and didn't mind the loss of privacy, for there were many layers and pieces to fit together. Beregond showed him how to put the mail on over the two other shirts so that, while it was quite heavy, it did not bother his skin. Pippin liked the tunic he put on over everything else and liked the fact that, unlike the trousers, it was several sizes too big, and so the hem hung halfway down his thighs and obscured the tight fit around his arse and under the zipper.

There was not a glass in which he could see how he looked once it was all put together, but looking down at himself he thought he looked very noble indeed. He thanked his friend and then said, "And now might we have something more to eat?"

They mightn't, and while Pippin was saddened, he reckoned this was part of the life of a soldier in service to the Lord of the City; he also consoled himself with the fact that eating would have made these trousers even more uncomfortable.

Pippin joined Beregond outside on the battlement, and while they talked of all they could see and all they could not foresee, Pippin couldn't help continuing to fiddle with many of the little pieces of his elaborate armor and attire. These trousers were not, by any means, the most unusual or mysterious item of clothing he'd come across on his journey. The Elven cloaks that the Lady Galadriel and her maidens had woven and gifted to them were, Pippin believed, more magical by far.

And yet there was something fascinating about this fastener. Once he was dressed, Pippin left the zipper of the trousers alone, as he thought it wouldn't be very dignified or fitting for a Guard of the Citadel to be fooling around with that. But he kept playing with the opening on the pack he'd been given for food and supplies, sliding the little handle up and down, open and closed; slipping his fingernail in between the metal teeth for a better idea of how they might fit together. Joined and inseparable and one beneath the slide, but two similar but quite separate strips above it. Pippin tried to make the strips connect by simply pressing them together, but it was no use. The joining and the separating would only happen underneath the slide, where Pippin couldn't watch it. It was maddening.

"Beregond," he said, "you will surely have noticed that I am well impressed with the fastener you called a _zipper_. The technology and metallurgy of Gondor has clearly surpassed that of my own country. Still, I confess I still do not understand just _why_ such a thing was invented or why it was made part of the garments of both the Tower Guards and ordinary citizens. What is the practical advantage of this device over plain old-fashioned buttons?"

"Well," said Beregond, "although perhaps it took a little showing you on the first try, the zipper is actually a much faster way of getting them open or closed than plain old buttons. That's why they call it a zipper, you see, because it just _zips_ open and closed." He exaggerated the buzzing of the zed in a way that made the word sound strange and made his mouth look funny, Pippin thought.

"I suppose that's a good thing then," he acknowledged, though he didn't really feel satisfied. "Is it... Is it really that important though? I mean, when you have all these other layers to get through, why put so much, er, investment into saving two or three seconds on the trousers?"

"Well, it's true the full uniform takes quite a bit of time to get in and out of. But don't you see, there are times when it's quite... urgent, shall we say, to undo that one little part!"

"Ah!" said Pippin. "That is most certainly true!" For he was thinking about his dear cousin Merry, who had learned a thing or two from his dear cousin Frodo, and how they both had a decided fondness for making the unbuttoning of a dear cousin's breeches take as long as was hobbitly possible.

It would indeed be good to dispense with that kind of dawdling, to pull the little sticky-out part down and pull the bigger sticky-out part _out_ and have done with it. Pippin thought how very good it would be for him to see his dear cousin Merry again and get him acquainted with the admirable fashions of Gondor.

Nevertheless, it still confused him little that such a thing should have been developed specifically for the uniforms of soldiers. Could the urgency of it really be so great? Of course randy young hobbits like himself had their reasons for wanting an efficient way of getting their trousers off, but were Big Men (or perhaps specifically Men of Gondor, or the Guards of the Citadel) so very eager, when they were in the mood for sex, that they couldn't take the time to undo a few buttons?

Despite himself, Pippin found that he was trying to picture Beregond yanking down his zipper in a mad effort to get his cock free as quickly as possible, and it just didn't seem to fit. Beregond was a soldier but Pippin thought him a gentle man and a patient one.

There was one Man whom he could much more easily imagine in such a needy state. From Pippin's first arrival at Minas Tirith, all the men's accents had reminded him of Boromir's. And Beregond actually looked rather like him: the two men had a similar size, the same sturdy shape, the same cut of their beards. In some ways Beregond resembled Boromir more than Denethor did.

Pippin had always found Boromir quite attractive and had had several arguments with Merry on the subject. He didn't think Merry was jealous, exactly, for he knew Pippin loved him more than anyone. Still, Merry had perceived that Frodo did not fully trust Boromir, and that was enough to make Merry dislike the man quite strongly. In fact, Merry had begun to have a rather bad opinion of Gondor in general. Pippin thought Merry was being wholly unreasonable and tried to remind him that Aragorn, whom they all liked quite well by that point (perceiving that Frodo trusted him), was meant to become king of that country, so it couldn't be such a bad place.

And now Pippin was sure it wasn't a bad place, and he hoped he might meet Merry again soon and introduce him to Beregond and his other friends (perhaps not to Denethor) and show him what a fine city this was.

Pippin looked back at Beregond now and thought that, yes, he was quite as handsome as Boromir had been and a deal more kind and helpful. He thought of Beregond kneeling before him earlier and chuckled a little, for it was just the reverse of what he'd often imagined he might like to do with Boromir (if, of course, he hadn't been deeply in love with and devoted to his dear cousin Merry).

"Why do you laugh, Peregrin?"

Pippin had thought about giving up the subject of the zipper altogether, but since he was still curious, and since Beregond did seem to be quite patient and also curious about Pippin and his thoughts, he said, "Begging your pardon again, is that so you can take care of it yourself, or to have one of your comrades in arms do for you?"

"Er." Beregond's eyes widened in surprise. "About getting the zipper open quickly, I only meant to say that sometimes, when you've had a lot to drink, you want be able to relieve yourself as quickly as possible."

"Oh!"

Well, Pippin ought to have known that. Probably he would have understood if he hadn't been thinking of his dear cousin, and if his trousers weren't fitting quite so tight, and if he hadn't had this handsome and patient and kind and curious man kneeling before him and very nearly touching him just there a very short time ago.

"Of course," said Pippin. "I only thought, well, I was thinking of my dear friends... the ones with whom I journeyed."

"I see," said Beregond, though Pippin guessed that he didn't really. It wasn't exactly a logical explanation, but Beregond was taking the opportunity to change the subject, and Pippin was grateful. "You must miss your family a good deal, as I miss mine. We must give our all in the battle that is approaching and hope that we may have our loved ones safe with us again soon."

"Yes," said Pippin, "I hope for that as well."

* * *

_April 8th, Cormallen_

"Aren't you handsome in your uniform then," Merry husked in his ear.

"Mmm," said Pippin, who had been meaning to say the very same thing to Merry as soon as they had a moment alone. "We're both quite regal, aren't we?"

The feast was still going strong, and they wouldn't be released from their duties for hours yet, but Pippin had noticed Merry's absence for the past few minutes and had snuck into one of the tents where food was being kept. As he had hoped, he'd found Merry there -- not even eating, simply standing, waiting for him. Merry had pulled him close from behind as soon as he'd entered. Pippin leaned back in Merry's arms, feeling Merry's hot breath, followed by Merry's lips and tongue, on his neck. It felt very nice, very nice indeed.

"I think that close-fitting silver and sable shall stand for sex in my mind for all the rest of my days," said Merry, reaching casually under Pippin's tunic and running his hands up and down his hips and thighs, just along the seam.

"You didn't say anything about it back at Minas Tirith."

"We weren't yet victorious then. It was hard to think much about how desirable my cousin looked when I was still worrying about my other cousin. And besides that, I was wounded."

"I'm glad that _my_ injuries don't get in the way of your licentiousness."

"Whenever I notice your limp I want to rush over and catch you in my arms..."

"_Oh_, yes." Pippin was certainly all caught up in Merry's arms now, rocking a little, knowing Merry would support him. He was rather caught up in Merry's voice too, low and rough as it only got when he was getting ready to...

"...Carry you to safety, kiss you senseless, tear off all your clothes to get you more comfortable..."

"Speaking of which, Merry," and Pippin's voice was coming out higher and higher, "I think you're aware that there's not much give to these trousers."

"_Very_ aware, yes." And Merry's hand pressed _hard_ in just _that_ spot (where there was no give whatsoever right now, and Pippin was actually beginning to experience some pain) for just the half-second it took him to say the word _very_, before moving away to roam lightly over the rest of his body again. Pippin squeaked a little.

"I mean to say, keep talking like this, and keep touching me like this, and I'll never be able to make it through the rest of the evening."

"Maybe that's part of my plan."

"There are a whole lot of people outside, cousin."

"Mmmm, and you think that thought's going to stop me?"

"Big People, many of whom have weapons..."

"That's it... tell me... Pippin... how you fought in the last battle...." Merry murmured through somewhat violent kisses and bites at Pippin's neck.

"...Who have dangerous weapons and who believe us to be heroes... rather than sex-crazed delinquents. Ah!" -- as Merry caught the tip of his ear in his teeth. "Also, kings to whom we've sworn our service. All of which makes me think that if we're going to spend any more time in this tent _thinking_ about doing that, we might as well go ahead and do it."

"Now there's a clever idea," said Merry. He caught Pippin's right hand as Pippin tried surreptitiously to reach down and apply some pressure where Merry was refusing to do so. "I'll think about it," he said, "but if that's to happen it'll be _me_ doing it, not you, yes?" Then he pulled both Pippin's hands behind his back and held them in one of his own while he continued to tease with the other. Pippin thought he probably was strong enough that he might pull away if he wanted to, but he also liked having Merry hold him this way, so he simply sighed.

"Speaking of heroes," said Merry, "did you see the way Frodo and Sam are looking at each other?"

Pippin laughed through the tension in his belly, where Merry's free hand currently roving. "It's as if Sam's thinking, 'Singin' and celebratin's all well and good, but why aren't you touching me?'"

Merry chuckled.

"Come to mention it," Pippin added, "that's rather how I'm feeling myself."

"But I _am_ touching you, Pip."

He could hear the laugh in Merry's voice and would have called him a cocktease if he weren't so nervous. Best not to antagonize him at this point; best not to give him any reason to move away. "You're not touching in quite the right places was all I meant. You could, you know."

"I could, it's true." And he let his hand slip a few inches lower. "What about all the Big People with their weapons, and the kings and such? Not so worried about them now?"

"I don't believe I'll be of much use to my king for the rest of the evening if I don't get some relief now, Merry."

"Unless he _likes_ seeing his servants walking around with bulges in their trousers."

"Merry!"

"Well, why do they make them so damn tight otherwise?"

"I don't know, Merry, but it was certainly not Aragorn's decision. He's been in exile all his life, hasn't he?"

"Mmmm, I doubt he minds it though. Remember when we met him in Bree? All that Ranger gear suited him a lot better than these royal robes, if you ask me. All those buckles and weapons sticking out all over the place. And everywhere straps of leather. Speaking of which...." Pippin felt a little thrill run up from his fingers to his spine as his hands were pulled to touch the buckle of Merry's belt. "Take this off for me, won't you?"

And Pippin went to work eagerly, if awkwardly, since he couldn't see a thing and wasn't used to manipulating anything behind his back. He was glad Merry finally seemed ready to get to the good part. "Are you sure you don't want me to turn around, Merry? Be a little more efficient like?"

"Quite sure, yes. You know I like you with your hands behind your back. That's part of the point." And as Pippin continued to work, Merry tugged back at his hips so he could feel -- ah, yes, Merry _was_ ready. "That's it," he encouraged. Pippin fumbled a bit more in his excitement, but after a few more moments he managed to get the thing undone, and he pulled the leather belt free.

Merry took it from him immediately and wrapped it once around Pippin's waist, crossed the strap at the small of his back, and twisted it once again around Pippin's wrists, tying them together and to his back. The edges of metal and leather dug in a little against Pippin's flesh as Merry fastened the buckle.

"Do you seriously mean to bind the hands of your invalid younger cousin while you have your way with him?"

"First of all," said Merry, finally releasing him and walking around to stand in front of him, so that Pippin could _see_ his roguish expression and not only hear it in his voice, "you're hardly an invalid. You've been lying about for nigh on two weeks and it's time you stood on your own feet."

"And without my hands to help me balance. Or yours for that matter."

"You're agile, Pippin. And don't interrupt. I was going to say... Ah yes, that it's not a question of _meaning_ to bind your hands. I've already done it, as I'm sure you're aware. And thirdly, you're the one who'll be having his way."

At this point Merry got on his knees, and Pippin very nearly did lose his balance, though it wasn't so much from having his hands bound as from giddiness at the sight. Merry caught him by the hips and waited till he was standing firm again, then lifted up the bottom part of the tunic like a lass's skirt and tucked it up and out of his way under the belt he'd used to bind Pippin's hands. Very slowly and deliberately and with much leering up at Pippin, he undid the button at the top of the trousers. Pippin tried to look away and to steady himself, hoping he might last and at the same time hoping Merry would hurry.

"What's this then?"

Merry had pulled away the fold of fabric and was, curse him to eternal ruin and all manner of unpleasantness, stopped frozen on his knees, two fingers resting lightly on the zipper. Pippin could only just feel the touch of them through hard metal and the soft fabric of his underclothes.

"It's in place of buttons," Pippin hissed, realizing he'd been foolish ever to think that Merry would want to get this part over with quickly. He whimpered a little.

"I don't understand," said Merry. "Explain it to me."

"Merry, this is really not the time."

"It's always time to broaden your mind, Pippin."

"No, Merry, sometimes it's really not. At this moment, for instance, my mind is quite narrowly focused and so should yours be. I have no interest whatsoever in anything other than touching you and having you touch me. Also, since I'm tied up and I _can't_ touch you, I only have any practical interest in you touching me. The uniform fixation was charming enough before, but right now I would like you to get these trousers off me, out of sight and out of mind, and to concentrate on my skin. In particular, the skin that's just underneath the zipper you're so stuck on."

"Why," Merry inquired, flipping the little handle up and down with a flick of his finger, "do they call it a zipper?"

"Because it's meant to move very fast!" said Pippin. "You pull that bit down, you see?"

"What, this bit here?" And Merry bit, _bit_ the little thing with his front teeth and, very briefly, tugged, not down but _out_.

"_Down!_" Pippin shrieked, and when he got his voice under control again he added, "You're supposed to pull it _down_."

Merry let go in order to say, "Don't rush me, Pip."

"The whole point of the zipper," Pippin said through gritted teeth, "is that you can get it off quickly when you need to... to get it off. I would appreciate it, Merry, if you would help me..."

"I'm helping you, Pip. I'm helping to make it better when I do get you off. I think we'll both like it better if we keep the uniform on though. I like the uniform, you see; it wasn't a passing thing. I agree with you though that we will need to get this part open. You liked the teeth, I think." He bit down on it again and, very slowly, tugged -- in the right direction this time. Pippin could feel the slight increase of pressure down along his flesh along with the slide, and then the great _release_ of pressure above. So great was the release, in fact, that Pippin's cock, far too long constrained inside, sprang out through the fold in his underclothes and actually poked Merry in the forehead.

And Pippin was quite mortified, but Merry only drew away a short distance laughed. "Careful with that thing," he said. "You'll put someone's eye out."

"Please, Merry," said Pippin, squirming a little even though he knew there was no possible way he could get his own clothes off without the use of his hands.

"What are you trying to do now?" said Merry, still sounding amused.

"We have to get them off," said Pippin. "If you expect me to go back out there with my trousers stained, you've got another think coming."

He winced at his own words even as Merry chuckled. "We'll get to that later," he said. "I've got more patience than you, as you well know. As for not staining your trousers, I'll just have to be careful to swallow every drop." Pippin's hips jerked forward at those words, beyond his conscious control. Merry, safely out of range, continued, "I think I can handle it. It's not as if I don't have practice." Merry breathed, purposefully as he did everything, the air hot and the movement strong enough it was almost, almost as good as skin on skin. "Ah, and here's the first drop now! Observe how neatly I..."

Merry's tongue, just on the tip of it. Again, barely a touch, though Pippin tried to push into it. Merry tsked at him, and Pippin whined, "Merry, please."

Merry was sitting back on his heels again, just taking in the view.

"Are you going to desert me again, Merry?"

"I'm right here, Pip." But still no touch, still only his breath, and Pippin's body straining all on its own to feel more than that. "Really," said Merry, "quite extraordinary. After so many other things gone wrong or right, after two weeks useless lying abed, after six months on the road, this part still functions perfectly, doesn't it? Just the same as always. How long has it been since you had any, dear?"

"You know as well as I do," said Pippin. "Not since the camp at Dol Baran, before..." but he would not speak of that. "Before Gandalf took me away to Edoras and then to Gondor."

"Well, I know that was the last time _I_ did, but there's no telling with tweens and Tooks, is there now?"

"Please, Merry," was all Pippin could think to say.

Merry smirked at him. "And you've not done for yourself, all those days alone and worrying the world was going to end?"

"Please..."

"I like the look of this," he said seriously. "Here, let me..." And his fingers worked just around the edges of where Pippin wanted them, pushing and tugging at the fabric just so, until Pippin could feel the metal ridges of the zipper positioned just behind his balls. "Now," said Merry, "that's just perfect."

_Perfect_ was just what Pippin thought a moment later when Merry, after a final appreciative look at Pippin's nobly framed cock, took it into his mouth. Perfect was the pressure of that tongue which, as Merry had said, had a good deal of practice. Merry had done this for him countless times, and this wasn't the first time he'd done it with Pippin's hands tied behind his back either. Merry knew Pippin better than anyone else in the wide world did, and so he knew just how to do this just the way Pippin liked, not trying to swallow him whole or suck him insensible but moving lightly around, and up and down and on and off, caressing each ridge and each vein with his clever tongue.

So in a way (a good way) it was familiar as sunshine in the Shire, and at the same time, well, this was not the Merry whom Pippin had known all his life but rather a Hold-wine of the Mark in full formal garb -- well, minus the belt. Nor had Pippin lost any of his own official dress, and he could feel, stronger now than ever, the press of those jagged teeth behind his sac, almost threatening, and probably leaving a mark although not cutting into the skin. When Merry sucked briefly at Pippin's balls his lips brushed the edges of the zipper and both of them moaned, though they tried to keep relatively quiet, mindful still of the Big Men with their weapons who, Pippin hoped, had no notion of what was going on in this tent. And so in a way (in several very good ways, really) it was all quite strange and exhilarating.

Pippin was feeling all this contentment and excitement along with the fact that, as Merry had reminded him, Pippin hadn't gotten any in over a month, and he'd been teased a good deal this evening. Soon his hips were jerking forward in rhythm, and Merry, in complete control as usual, moved with him and did not allow Pippin to shove too far into his throat (or to put his eye out). He returned repeatedly to the tip of Pippin's cock and, as promised, did not allow a single drop to stain. Pippin began to feel unsteady on his feet, lost in the sensation of what Merry was doing to him and deprived of the balance of his arms. But Merry caught him on his hips, and let Pippin rock forward without letting him fall. He was not teasing now but giving, as only Merry knew how to give, everything that Pippin wanted and needed, had wanted for so very long.

Everything had turned out right in the end, after all, after so much journeying and all the desperation toward the end, and everything was coming together, and now everything in Pippin seemed to come together just there where the zipper was still holding him, and Pippin panted, "Ready, Merry," unaware of whether he meant that he was ready to come or that Merry should get ready or what exactly, but Merry's gaze said he understood.

Then it came, all in a rush, and Pippin was _not_ ready, as it turned out, for the force was too strong and his vision whited out and his knees buckled and he fell forward. But Merry _was_ ready for him, caught him securely around the waist and held him through the convulsions even as he swallowed his seed. And Pippin gave himself over and let Merry hold him up. He closed his eyes and slumped against him and felt nothing in the world except trust. For Pippin had always trusted his Merry.

When the rushing stopped and he opened his eyes, he found that he had his hands free and was on his knees looking into Merry's face, and that Merry was passing the belt through his hands, licking his lips, and smiling.

"Not a drop, you see?"

And Pippin looked down and saw that this was indeed true. His cock was hanging limp and quite clean against his right thigh, and it was less of an effort than it had ever been before for him to stuff it back inside and to do up the zipper of his trousers.

He looked back up at Merry's face, then down at Merry's codpiece, and asked, "Am I -- ?"

"No," Merry said cheerfully. He got to his feet, putting on his belt again, then reaching out to help Pippin stand as well. "I've got more patience than you, as I mentioned. So we'll be going back out to the kings to whom we've sworn our service. And we'll continue to honor them and to honor Frodo and Sam, and spend as much time in their company tonight as ever they should wish."

All of this sounded very good and reasonable to Pippin, who was a little shaky on his feet but was walking, all except for the part where Merry hadn't come.

Then Merry spoke in his ear in that gruff voice that Pippin could never get enough of, "Just keep in mind, while all of this is going on, that when we get back to our own tent tonight I'll be laying it into you, and I don't mean with the belt." He paused, thoughtful. "Or not _only_ with the belt."

"Yes," said Pippin, needing to stop in place a few moments to wait for another wave of giddiness to pass.

"We'll be taking off the all the fancy clothes then." Merry paused by the flap of the tent, just inside, and waited for him.

"Yes."

"And we'll be poking in and out of each other like two sides of a zipper."

Merry grinned as he said it and Pippin started to laugh, but then Merry's face went quite serious. "Yes," Pippin said again. "Joined and inseparable."

Merry kissed him hungrily but briefly, then pulled away and took his hand, and together they walked back out onto the field.

**Author's Note:**

> This story was remixed by Rubynye as [Morning at Crickhollow](http://archiveofourown.org/works/49961) for a_conspiracy, the hobbit remix challenge, 2007.


End file.
